You Saw My Pain Washed Out In The Rain
by alaskanbirdfriend
Summary: A 13x22 coda. Sam talks to Jack about Lucifer.


The small celebration party is over, and Sam Winchester wanders around aimlessly.

He doesn't have much to do, everyone is mostly asleep except for a couple people still sitting in the library. They're drunk, _drunk on liquor and happiness._

 _Perhaps Sam is, too. The Devil is finally gone._

Sam walks around the hallways, brain on autopilot, until he arrives, surprisingly, in front of Jack's room.

The door is open by a crack, and from what he can see, Jack is sitting on his bed, reading. His expression doesn't look interested, though, instead, angry, furious, upset, sad, _all those feelings that make Sam's heart hurt, because there is no doubt, no doubt at all that it is his fault._

 _No matter how much he hates Lucifer, he never wanted to hurt Jack._

Sam knocks on the door. "Hey, Jack, can I come in?"

He waits.

There is silence for a minute or so, and Sam decides, _just leave Jack alone, he probably doesn't want company right now,_ _least of all_ _ **his**_ _company,_ and he turns away, ready to go to his own room. Then he hears Jack's voice.

"Sure, Sam." His voice sounds hard, bitter. Sam swallows, memories flashing up inside his mind of years far gone.

 _Not a good time, not a good time, not a good time._

Sam walks in slowly, wary. Sits down at the small desk, watching Jack.

"You doing alright? I know it's been tough the past few days…"

He sounds awkward, intrusive, but he cares, he wants to make sure Jack is doing alright.

Jack sighs, annoyed, and sets down the book.

 _And oh God, Sam knows those signs like the back of his hand, he knows what they mean, and he wants to leave, now, he wants to run away, run far away._

But Sam keeps himself still because this is _Jack,_ not Lucifer. _Not the Devil, not Satan, not the Morningstar who burns cold, whose true image is burned into Sam's eyes._

Jack glares at Sam, accusing. "Why did you leave my father behind?"

 _Sam can hear the hate dripping from Jack's words, he can hear the malice, and he thinks he's shaking, oh God let him go, please let him escape the cage-_

Sam closes his eyes and lets out a breath. His thumb shifts towards his palm, he can't help it.

"Jack...you don't...you don't know how bad Lucifer really is."

 _But Sam does, and he doesn't want to, he remembers hooks in his skin, knives in his flesh, he remembers metal stakes hammered into his palms, his feet, he remembers a rusted collar, and oh God, he doesn't want to call it that, but that's what it is, looped around his neck, and worst of all, he remembers gentle fingers running through his hair and quiet murmured words he flinches away from-_

Jack's voice breaks through his thoughts, filled with fury.

"Oh, yeah, and you do? You know nothing about him except the stories you've heard, and he's been in a cage that whole time!"

 _But the cage is the worst part, doesn't Jack understand?_

Sam can feel the crackling power in the air coming from Jack, and all he can hear is the anger, the fury, the rage, _and he's pretty sure he's trembling, backing away in his chair, it's so similar to the Devil, it's just enormous power, that's it, and he can't look the nephil in the eye, can't look the Devil in the eye, not allowed to, never allowed to, never important enough, just a human, just an abomination, a burden, a pest, a_ _ **thing**_ _-_

"Sam? Are you okay?" Jack's voice holds fading anger, slowly filling with concern.

Sam doesn't look up, _remember the rules, Sam Winchester is not worthy, never worthy to look an archangel in the eyes, much less the son of an archangel,_ and he just nods jerkily.

"Yeah, I'm going to my room." He swallows. "You were right, I'm sorry, I shouldn't assume anything just based on stories. Good night, Jack."

Sam walks down the hallway to his room and steps inside, closing the door.

His movements as he gets into bed are robotic, and when he finally shuts his eyes, he's the last one in the bunker to do so.

And as night falls upon Sam Winchester, so do his nightmares.

* * *

 _It's not one of the worse days. It's just pain, mostly._

 _Or is it even a day? He's stopped trying to keep track. Time isn't relevant in the cage._

 _His body is gone, he's just a soul, all the better for the Devil to torture._

 _The Devil sits next to him, crouches next to Sam who is lying on the ground, holding more knives with more arms than any human._

 _Then again, the Devil is not human._

 _His vessel has pretty much burned away, obviously. No use for it here._

 _Sam can feel the blades digging into his flesh. But it's just the beginning._

 _Chains form and loop around him, inscribed with Enochian letters he had once not been able to read, curling around his limbs and places he doesn't want to talk about._

 _Any movement and they get tighter._

 _The chains grow thorns and the thorns are covered with poison, with acid, and he's screaming in pain all while the Devil is sharpening knives like he's playing a game and humming a tune with no melody._

 _It sounds broken, broken like his bones, broken like his mind, broken like his soul._

 _Someone touches his shoulder and his eyes flash open._

* * *

It's bright. It's bright and he wants to shut his eyes but if he shuts his eyes _he's going to be back in the darkness, the darkness of the cage._

He sees a face, he doesn't know who it is, but Lucifer's obviously created another reality to torture him, and he can't suffer through it again.

The arm on his shoulder shifts and he hears a faint, "Sam?"

He flings himself against the wall in terror, backing up as much as he can, backing away from this hallucination, whatever it is.

It's Jack.

He's not in the cage.

Sam frowns, confused, terrified, and _oh thank god he's not in the cage, wait, don't thank god,_ before he coughs-whispers out,

"Jack? What-" Sam looks around the room. "What are you doing here?"

Jack looks down in shame, drops his arm from Sam's shoulder, _wait, Jack, what's wrong, are you okay,_ and Sam sits up, alert.

Jack glances to the side, pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry that I said you didn't know Lucifer."

Sam flinches at the name, he can't help it. But the words that Jack says confuse him.

"What, Jack, what do you mean-"

"I saw what you dreaming about."

There's silence. Sam freezes, blood draining from his face, _oh god Jack saw everything, he saw_ _ **everything**_ _-_

"Jack, you shouldn't- you shouldn't have had to seen that, I'm sorry-"

He can see Jack hunch over at his words, _hunch over like his wings are curling around him_.

"No, Sam, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have assumed…"

Jack stops talking, instead chooses to close his eyes and turn away, _no, stop, Jack wasn't told anything, it's not his fault,_ and something breaks in Sam.

Sam reaches his hand towards Jack, concerned, worried, so regretful.

"You had a right to be angry," Sam whispers. "You didn't know."

 _He shouldn't have had to know it like that, Sam should've told him, no one should have to see that._

"And I'm sorry for hurting you-"

Jack shakes his head. "You shouldn't be sorry. Not for leaving Lucifer behind. Even if it hurt me."

Sam swallows, guilty, _but still, Sam's so thankful he left the Devil in the other world._

A small smile slowly begins to form on Jack's face. He takes a deep breath.

"Good night, Dad."

And Jack gets up, _he doesn't fly away, because he knows the sound of his wings will frighten Sam,_ and walks out of the room.

And Sam Winchester is left sitting on his bed, biting his lip in an effort not to cry.

He fails.


End file.
